


Don’t fall for the foolish Shem

by NyelhHawke



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair’s POV, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Breakup after Landsmeet, Consensual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Makeup Sex, Modern Era, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Warden’s POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:07:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27074728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyelhHawke/pseuds/NyelhHawke
Summary: “Come on” I think, but do not say, “it’s been a year already, get on with it.”I have said that same thing to me every day since the first one. But it did not help to see him all the time.It has been a month since I stopped working side by side to the Fereldan court, but nothing, to hear anyone talk about “The kindhearted king” is enough to make things hurt as if I just had walked out of The Landsmeet. So what do I do? Hide in my apartment like a child until my confirmation to travel to Amaranthine is done.That’s it. That’s my great story of “Kallian Tabris, The Hero of Ferelden”.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Tabris, Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age), Female Tabris/Alistair, Female Warden/Alistair, King Alistair/ Female Tabris
Kudos: 5





	Don’t fall for the foolish Shem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Acathla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acathla/gifts).



> This is a gift that comes many, many years late.  
> It is an Alternate Universe that I developed without too much thought around five years ago, to gift a very dear friend of mine.  
> I found it not long ago, and after two days writing, editing and reading over and over, I feel confident enough to post it and hopefully surprise her.  
> I had a lot of fun re-doing this.  
> Long story short: The main plot still happens but with some Modern Times Elements.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You can let him in and hear what he has to say… Or” Or she said, so I did have choices after all, interesting, “leave it where your beautiful and totally eloquent text did and let the curiosity drive you insane,” she paused, expecting an answer. “So, what will you do?”

He broke up with me, I still can't believe it.

  
“He broke up with me!” Nope, doesn't make me feel better saying it out loud.

  
 _Come on_ , I think, but do not say, _it’s been a year already, get on with it._ I have said that same thing to me every day since the first one. But it did not help to see him all the time.

  
It has been a month since I stopped working side by side to the Fereldan court, but nothing, to hear anyone talk about _The kindhearted king_ is enough to make things hurt as if I just had walked out of The Landsmeet. So what do I do? Hide in my apartment like a child until my confirmation to travel to Amaranthine is done.

  
That’s it. That’s my great story of “Kallian Tabris, The Hero of Ferelden”.

  
So here I am, laying on bed, looking to, what? Well, the ceiling seems interesting right now. I'm so angry that I won't cry. Chantry Virgin my ass.

  
And yes, I _might_ have chosen him as the new king when he said he didn't want to, but what the hell he thought I was going to do? All Ferelden was watching, Eamon was looking at me with eyes growing larger and nodding slowly. And there was that shem'len bitch looking all proud and smiling, so damn confident of the fact that she was going to be the crowned one. She didn’t become queen, “this is for betraying me, bitch” I remember thinking. Her sharp tongue became razor-edged and refused to accept Alistair as her ruler, so he had no choice but to send her away to some place. Didn’t care at that time, was too busy thinking on the massive fight we were going to have after the whole thing, once we were alone.

  
Except that, OH! We weren’t alone, at all.

  
Leliana, Shale, Sten, Oghren, Morrigan, hell, even my dog was there, waving his tiny lump of a tail and sticking his tongue out, as if something good was going on, for a very clever breed like mabari, he sure was less than useless at feeling the tension on a room. I could feel everyone’s eyes on my shoulders, probably wondering when I was going to burst on tears. Didn’t happen, like I said, I was too angry to shed a single tear on his behalf.

  
He talked about an heir, marriage, and also said something about how I couldn’t fit in any corner of it, “I don’t like it” he had said, “But it is how things are supposed to be”.

  
Apparently, _his sense of duty outgrew his affection_ , like Wynne had told me after I stormed off to another room, with the smuggest of _I told you sos_ look on her face.

  
And yeah, she _did_ say so.

  
Suddenly everything seemed and felt unreal, like if at any minute I was going to wake up in my apartment at the alienage and Shianni was going to take me to Denerim’s market place so I could pick a wedding dress.

  
Because….how on earth an elf ends up choosing a whole country’s fate?!

  
A shem gets his way screwing your wedding and your whole life changes. A human so nice that it would have been disrespectful to call him by the same term saved me and invited me, or kind of forced me, to join an especial army: The Grey Wardens, people who apparently left their past life behind them. “Good for me” I thought, the last thing I wanted was to remember how a rich son of a bitch raped my cousin and killed my fiancé, so hell of course I said yes, either that or let the guards throw me into prison for the rest of my life. No one had good memories from spending time in jail. I would have probably ended at Fort Drakon for killing the son of Denerim’s Arl.

  
And I just couldn’t help to feel bad for my poor dad. He had enough burdens to deal with after mother died, a single man raising a girl? You wait till your daughter comes asking about periods and growing breast and you’ll know what I'm talking about. I ended up looking for info by myself, someone who's constantly blushing and coughing couldn't say much. I thank The Maker for all of my non-biological aunts and friends from the alienage that putted up with my giggles and blushes as they walked me through their explanations. 

  
And it’s not like I was a warrior or anything, but I guess when your parents served to the country’s army as soldiers you end up learning a couple of stuff.

  
And then I met Alistair “The Jerk” Theirin. Duncan died, King Cailan died, Loghain betrayed the whole country, the army fell and there was only two asshats whom barely knew that being a Grey Warden meant you'd had to fix all the mess and a Witch whose mother forced her to join the pair in their quest. I know, right? Sounds like the beginning of a terrible orlesian joke, except it wasn’t one. And sure, sure, “grey wardens are not supposed to meld with politics”, sure. I wish I could hit Duncan with the book that ever said that about the order. His lie and Zevran’s about being able to pick locks with hairpins were both just as evil.

  
And now here I am, earphones buried in my ears thinking about… Maker knows, the meaning of my existence and shit. 

  
I'm at my new apartment in Denerim, small, one room. I can hear Warfang scratching the door to get in. I peel the sheets aside and rise from my bed while stopping the music by tapping the earplug-sized earphone on my ear. With my fingers I remove them and lean them on my desk.

“Okay buddy, come in,” I say as I open the door, he looks at me.  
“What? Hungry again?” he usually barks or lets me know somehow when I'm right, instead, he gives me _the look_.  
“I’m okay Fang, you don't need to worry about me all the time,” he just huffs and jumps to my bed, falling asleep seconds later.

  
Shrugging, I walk towards the bin where my clothes are all stored until I buy a wardrobe. I pick a long t-shirt and throw it to my bed, Warfang startles, looks at me for a little while and goes back to sleep. I’m taking my shirt off when I see a figure watching at my place, tall enough to be a human but not large enough to be qunari, it would have been weird to see Sten there...to say the least. I get close to the window and it… He! Hides behind a tree, I recognize him twice as fast.

  
Well, actually his mother's amulet reflecting a lot of light in the dark mixed with the inherited skill to see at night provided by my elven heritage made his attempt to hide _meaningless_ –I say the last word in my head with an arrogant, self-satisfied tone that would make Morrigan nod in approval–.

  
He is messing his hair with his fingers and I can spot something on his other hand. Almost by instinct, I grab my cell phone and start typing. 

  
**[Me]:**   
**“You know I can see you…right?”**

And sent. One, two, three...

  
Right there! He takes something from his pocket… His phone, obviously. Rubbing his neck, he turns towards my window and gives me an awkward grin, the _you caught me_ grin.

  
I won’t fall again for that crap.

  
I close the window and pull the curtains over it, ready to head my steps towards the living room, in case some tiny piece of me wants to open it again.

  
I know sooooo mature, right? Maybe next time I’ll stick my tongue out to Eamon when he speaks to me.

My phone beeps and I look myself in the mirror Leliana bought me and that I used to decorate the boring hallway that communicates every part of the house, my bedroom to the left, kitchen and bathroom to the right.

  
I say to the twenty years old girl that looks at me with a pout through the looking glass that I'm not going to check who texted me.

Easier said than done.

**[Ali ♥]:**

**"I want to talk to you, can I go upstairs?”**

Shit! I didn't change the contact name. Well, in my defense, I tried. To erase the heart and type a much more dry “Alistair” had felt utterly empowering, but I took it as a divine sign when for some reason my phone went crazy and didn't save it on the contact information, and it's not right to deny The Maker's will upon the living, right?

I'm so not over any of this.

I look to the dialogue bubble and see his contact picture. Straight to the feels, I didn‟t change that either, such amazing shot. Just a selfie I took when we started dating, the day he gave me the rose he'd picked up in Lothering. I held the flower and he kissed my cheek, my finger slipped straight to the shutter button.

“Best things are the ones you never plan,” my mother used to say.

A tear runs down my cheek and I clean it. I said I'm not going to cry.

**[Me]:**

**"Go and fuck something on your way back to your castle, shem. Maybe some spoiled noble brat wants to give you the heir that you want so much”**

Wrote and sent before I could regret doing so. And my heart starts to break as I think on his hazel eyes looking at his phone screen like a hurt puppy…

Wait… NO! I will NOT think of him in that way, he broke my heart, right? He took all my feelings and shattered them into tiny little pieces…

So yeah, fuck him… but just for a little while.

 _Ugh_ , I say to myself, I' _m pathetic_. The Morrigan in my head nods again. My heart sinks in grief and I swiftly open the text app, hoping that The Maker… Or Creators, or whatever or whoever upstairs gives me a second chance.

They didn't, I bet they're laughing their sacred asses off right now looking at me staring at the two-checked signs right under my earlier outburst. 

So I call Leliana, she's like an advice encyclopedia, but better. She picks up quickly and I mouth a “thank you so much” to the roof.

  
“Hello, Kallie the Tabbie, what can I do for you?”

  
“Yeah… Well… Alistair-” I hear how she goes all _Oh!_ When I say his name, but I keep talking, “I saw him from my window, I texted him, he replied that he wanted to talk to me and…”

  
Shit, why is it so hard to tell her?

  
“Oh! So he finally went to speak with you,” she says, almost laughing, well, better her than The Maker. “What did you tell him?”

  
“I called him shem,” Leliana remains in silence, she knows me, I close my eyes as I blurt “andtoldhimtofucksomethingonhiswayhome.”

  
She’s laughing _now._

  
Can someone please dig a hole in the ground for me? I'm going to stay there forever if I don't go and hide with Dalish first like cousin Pol did after his father told him he was to wed. 

  
Lanaya's clan is still on the forest, right?

  
I should have called Morrigan. She would tell me how I did the right thing and how I deserve better than a foolish chantry boy. But no, she had to disappear too, leaving her phone behind, like some silly way of telling me “Indeed, in case you thought you were going to be able to contact me, when I said ‘do not follow’, ‘twas literal.”

  
“You know he's probably still down there like a beaten puppy, right?”  
Hell of course I knew that!  
Wait a minute, what did she say? Like a second ago…

  
“You knew he was coming?”

  
“You know how he always asks someone first, I case you don’t recall, I will gently remind you that he asked if I was a woman before asking me for loving advise” Now I’m the one laughing at the memory, recalling how he talked as slow as he could and yet I managed to eavesdrop. 

  
“Hey, Leli?” I can almost hear myself saying it. She hums in my ear in expectation.

  
Don't tell her dammit! Do not say those words, “What should I do?”   
There! The four of them in a row, I'm officially a shame to my kind.  
Note to self: Stay on the Deep Roads for the rest of my life; we'll call it a rare case of early Calling.

  
“You can let him in and hear what he has to say… Or” _Or_ she said, so I did have choices after all, interesting, “leave it where your beautiful and totally eloquent text did and let the curiosity drive you insane,” she paused, expecting an answer. “So, what will you do?”

  
I hear the rain is starting to fall outside, Lovely! Like Leliana herself would say, things just can't stop getting better. 

  
Warfang barks at the window when a thunder strikes and runs off to the living room, hiding on the couch. What a brave mabari I have.

  
“You should do whatever you're going to do rather quickly,” she giggles, “I can imagine the Little Templar soaking wet under that heavy rain.”

  
“Thanks, Lel.”

  
“Anytime, Sweetie.” She says, “Remember to call me back and _spill every single detail_ ” The bard hangs up and I go and throw myself into the couch next to my dog like a dead body, I see his head sticking out beneath the blanket we usually use to cover ourselves while watching some horror movie.

  
“Never fall in love with a human, Warfang. Never, promise me that.” I think he wagged his tale, a tiny knot moving under the quilt, probably not understanding a word I'm saying. I remain there for a few seconds, looking at my phone screen.

I huff, thinking.

  
I’m going to regret this.  
I’m going to regret this.  
I’m going to regret this.

  
**[Me]:**   
**“Still there?”**

  
Shit.  
It takes him a whole minute to answer.

**[Ali♥]:**   
**“If you mean freezing under the rain, then yes, I'm still here :-(“**

  
Did I say I’m going to regret this?

 **[Me]:**  
 **“You have five minutes, four left”**  
He responds right after.

 **[Ali♥]:**  
 **“Thank the Maker, I’m coming.”**  
I laugh, then frown.

**[Me]:**   
**“Asshole”**

**[Ali♥]:**   
**“You want me to come up or stay down here catching a cold?”**

**[Me]:**   
**“Three :)”**

**[Ali♥]:**   
**“Alright, alright, I’ll go upstairs”**

I run to the hall once again, looking myself in the mirror. 

  
Hair? Good, the typical ponytail, my curls falling down my back.

  
Clothes? Perfect, I’m wearing a red shirt and...why on earth I’m doing this? He’s not my boyfriend; he probably comes to speak about court. It has been a month since the last time I went to the castle. He probably just wants to warn me about how much paperwork I have on my desk, and that Eamon it’s going to kill me if I don’t go tomorrow.

  
Maybe I should hide on The Free Marches, change my name, dye my hair, would red suit my skin tone?   
I shouldn’t have sent that fucking text.   
I’m already regretting this and he’s not even upstairs.

  
He asked once if we could be friends, but can we? I can’t look to his face without getting angry. He promised me so many things, and now…

  
I guess that’s what always lingered, the empty words, hitting like knives on my back.

  
That’s when someone knocks and I walk to the door, “–And zero! I’m sorry, your majesty, but your time…” To see him at the threshold cuts me right in the middle of my sentence. “Holy shit, you’re dripping!” His hair totally ruined, sticking to his forehead, all his clothes soaking wet. He is wearing Jeans and a white t-shirt for some reason, and a pair of sneakers, not even of that expensive Antivan brand! It’s just probably clothes he hides from his butler.

  
I met Tradus, quite a man; he forced me to wear a dress because it was unacceptable having a woman wearing jeans walking around the castle. “You mean an elf” I said rolling my eyes and arms crossed, all humans meant an elf when it came to bad things, or in the most colorful of cases, knife-ears. 

  
“Race has nothing to do with fashion, darling” The comment hit me right on my face, totally unexpected, and from a human working for the nobility no less, if someone messed with his work he would have them hunted and punished, no matter the race, the ears or if it was The King himself accidentally dropping coffee on his shirt and yes, it is speaking from witnessed experience, “now let the servants pick a dress for you; I can’t stand watching such pretty face in those manly clothes”. I huff now to the comment, jeans are the most comfortable clothes in the world. Anyway, we still talk from time to time, even took me to get my hair done before I could travel to Orlais for the first time and taught me all kinds of tricks to survive The Game. “Keep been as straight with your words as you are and you’ll be sentencing the country to war over a fashion crime, so please prevent yourself from criticize the attire of any noble next time, Lady Brigitte was mortified after your comment during negotiations.”

  
Hey, it was on her. You don’t walk upon a Fereldan Hall wearing a peacock-styled mask and a dress to match, with two servant girls walking by your side lifting and accommodating the feather tail all evening and expect to get away with it. Even Leliana with her taste for fancy shoes laughed, I just had the courage to say something out loud.

  
Right, right, Alistair’s on the door. I know, I’ll get on with it.

  
“Your building…needs a ceiling on the porch” He says hissing.

  
“What? The door attendant didn’t open it for you?”

  
“He was sleeping! He had me knocking the glass like until you texted me, and when he woke up he got all angry and started yelling at me and…” Ugh, sooo whiny, was he like that when we first met?

  
 _Am I_ looking for reasons to hate him? Probably.

  
 _Do I_ notice his abs marked by the translucent wet shirt? Not at all.

  
Do I think he looks handsome? Not for a _second_.

  
 _Am I_ rambling and lying? Indeed I am. Except for the first one, I do want to hate him, if a little bit more.

  
I warned you all I wasn’t over any of this shit. I can feel Morrigan’s disapproval somewhere along Thedas.

  
“Yeah, that is Dorbin” I blink and bring myself back into the conversation. “Never wake a dwarf from his nap” I add, as if himself hadn’t experienced what to live with a textbook tempered dwarf was like, “but he is a nice man” I say before shutting up, Alistair smiles, brushing his wet hair with his hand to the back.

  
Sweet, evil, _merciless_ Maker. 

  
And there we stand, watching each other like idiots, he looks at the floor, I open my mouth, but every time I want to say something I shut my lips again. Finally, after what seemed an hour I say “you want to…” right when he goes “I…”  
“You go first!” We keep saying at the same time. “No! Really, I insist” I don’t want to laugh, but a memory of old days makes me unable to hold a smirk, he smiles back at me.

  
“You want to come in? I have towels and…soda” What? I don’t drink, I hate beer, last time I had a sip of one I fainted. Damn Oghren’s “homemade” ale. Alistair nods and I step back, letting him get into my house.

  
For some reason, I feel like if I had signed a contract to death right when he stepped inside my apartment and I close the door behind him. 

  
I go to my room and Warfang wags his tail to me, he always hides when someone knocks on the door and I really don’t blame him, there were no pets allowed at the place we lived before I moved here. “Alistair is here” I say and he growls. That’s what happens when a your ex-boyfriend breaks up with you in front of everyone, even your dog ends up hating him a bit, “I know, now go and say hi”, he huffs and reaches the doorway. “And don’t bite his hand this time!” I add at the end, he turns around and complaints again, then goes away. I know Warfang; he’ll just go and hide to the kitchen.

  
“Think fast, shem!” I throw the towel to him and he catches it on a blink.

  
Am I being too nice? Too friendly? Should I play the “bad cop” role? Or perhaps the crazy ex-girlfriend?

  
Or maybe he just came to warn me about shit, like the tantrum Eamon’s going to have because Lord _Idon’tcarewho_ wanted to ask me shit about The Blight and I was too busy tracking down Morrigan to apply or even attend to a worthless interview that it was more pointed towards knowing how could an _elf_ accomplish such thing; or probably wants to send me once again to Orlais to one of those ridiculous parties where I have to wear one of those creepy masks, or because I changed again maps of guardsmen’s patrol….what? They don’t pay enough attention to The Alienage, I recently heard news of a madman killing elven children in Kirkwall, I will not have any of that, Shianni just has given birth to the most beautiful baby girl.

  
I don’t realize I’m awkwardly staring at him. He coughs and I look to my very much interesting floor, “So” I lay my shoulder on the wall and watch him clean his face slowly “Why are you here?”

  
I’m done with playing the good friend. Screw him.  
“It’s been a while since the last time I saw you” He says, his eyes narrow to my feet, “I’m glad to see you are doing good, I was...concerned.” I cross my arms, feeling vulnerable and exposed all of the sudden.

  
“I was going to go back…” I start, but the most honest answer I could give was the “Eventually” that rolled over my lips. Yup, eventually, when I was allowed to attend my duty in Amaranthine, I would go to pick my stuff and say shake my hand goodbye.

  
I hear him laugh quietly, why? Why is he laughing? I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks with growing, standing anger, lingering within me and just in need of the tiniest of signals to burst.

  
“Funny thing, you know” He says, looking me in the eyes in a way that reminded me to old, somewhat easier days, and for a second I feel hope that somewhere inside of him, it was Ali. Ali, my Ali, not the cold heartless person that spoke to me after the Landsmeet, “Someone from court was having a charity event on The Alienage, to supply and aid the elves that suffered back with the events of The Blight and Howe’s slave trade” My mind ran back to that day. I had assisted The Willows on the event, doing my job as a Royal advisor and Hero of Ferelden or to those less given to words, titles and poetry _“The little elf girl that somehow won the war”_ by looking pretty wearing my ceremonial uniform, shake a few hands and having Zevran and Leliana making sure shems were not trying to screw my people in some other way while the orphanage was being officially reopened. 

  
“I know, I was there” I reply, stuck in my spot in front of him, unable to move. It had passed exactly a month, the last official day Kallian Tabris was seen at Fereldan court.

  
“I had intended to approach you there,” he admits and my heart stops, I feel the palms of my hands feeling cold and slowly growing sweaty. “Figured that you couldn’t run and would be forced to listen to me at a public place” He smiles again, but more like a sheepish grin. Then he blinks and he looks sad again. “But then I saw you and you were…talking to someone else” Oh shit, I remember.

  
My father, as much patient he was, had grown sad beyond measure as he saw me, said that no matter how content I looked, I could fool all Thedas but him, and after insisting on looking for a new husband for me, I agreed. Though I knew well I was beyond catch to any man, deflowered and with a big, emasculating tittle to whom couldn’t feel himself an equal, and I refused to marry a stupid, overfed egotistic that only wanted to use me as a banner, to lift his spirits by calling himself the one that managed to _catch_ The Hero of Ferelden.

  
“An elven young man” He continues to speak, “he was putting a crown made of flowers on your head. You smiled and laughed at something he had said. I– I hadn’t seen you like that since…well” I blush, my cheeks feeling warm. Suddenly guilt sets on my stomach, making my mouth dry. _Erick_ , I thought to myself, _the elf with the human name_ , from The Free Marches, his family was well settled by serving some family in Kirkwall, The Dupuis, I believe he’d said. Little did Alistair know that I had refused the offer not much later than that, as soon as the word of a new commander in Amaranthine was brought up, as the new Warden-Commander in Ferelden, I was selected to the task. But he kept on speaking, “I tried to let it go, I really did Kallie” Oh, the nerve of him. He knew he was taking a great risk by calling me that, the last time he did, a year ago, I had my hand snapped away from his and closed into a fist and hissed him to never, _ever_ call me that again. “I’ve been telling myself that it was foolish to think that you would have me back after the things I did and said to you.”

  
He steps up, and I swear I can feel my heart beat out of my ribcage. Too much, too fast, what is happening? I cannot think, he steps closer and closer, although he is as much, two away, they feel like hundreds. He cups my cheek, “Am I? Fooling myself?” His warmth is so welcomed and familiar, and yet again I am betrayed by my body when I feel the heat on my cheeks, “Or will you ever be able to forgive me?” His tone, as his spiced smell of soap, is very well known to me.

  
Yet I say nothing, this is too much, I need to breath, I’m not sure I had even drew in a breath since he stepped through the door. And he comes close, his face closer to mine. My eyes open wide, and -

  
And the stupid shem kisses me. First the tip of my nose, which startles me and makes me blink and then he moves down to my lips. The soft and familiar taste of his makes my mind and eyes shut. My heartbeats calmed under his touch. The longing, the pain, it all washed away with a simple peck of his lips. 

  
I do not move, but I feel his arm grab me by the waist and pull me closer to him. One hand ventures to his cheek, trying to feel as much as I could, this could not be real, this was not actually happening. I’m sure at some point I will open up my eyes to find myself remaining in bed and the music I was playing earlier will flow back into my ears.

  
Alone, horny, frustrated and hating myself for still loving this evil shem with every part, every fiber of my being. 

  
My other hand goes to his soft, wet hair; disheveling it with my fingers. His lips part and mine open to welcome his tongue. Maker, his tongue, I gently suck on to it, and he moans. Our kiss goes chaste again, but then I feel how he strengthens his grip and holding the back of my head, pushes my body against the door. I gasp, not precisely in pain when I feel his cold, wet shirt, pressing tight against my breast. 

  
This is wrong.  
Sooo wrong.  
Wrong in so many fucking levels.

  
But I do not stop and I do not stop him from cupping one of my breasts, my bra preventing me from feeling the pads of his fingers on my skin. He growls, mortified as well by the clothed barrier, and pulls it down along with the shirt with a gesture. He cups it again and I loudly gasp; his touch electric against me. I jump and Alistair, acknowledging the movement we had done many times before, quickly moves his hands around my hips and I wrap my legs against his waist, he softly pushed me back on the door again for support. I smile on his lips, he has not forgotten.

  
And now my core trembles to the thought, _what other things does he still remember?_

  
“Bed”, He mutters against my mouth and I bite his lower lip. I gain a pleased groan, “Where’s your bed?”

  
“Hall” I say, “Left” And like that, we venture blindly around the apartment, guided only by his steps and the slight _blast it_ that escapes his mouth when the back of his head hits the mirror. The door snaps open and we are thrown into the mattress. In between breathes and kisses I slip both of my hands under his shirt, his skin was still cold and he halts, his breath on my face. I open my eyes to find him staring at me, his pupils so wide that I could barely distinguish the brown-green color of his iris anymore. 

  
His eyes go up for my hair and balancing to hold himself upon one arm, I feel his fingers grasp upon my hairband and he slowly releases it, causing my hair to fall upon my face. The old bangs I used to have back when The Blight were long grown. He brushed the black strings off my face, “There” he says, a smirk growing in his face, he cups my cheek again, “Maker, love, you are so beautiful” He says, and my heart races again, the curves of my mouth turn alone into a smile. He kisses me again, and for the first time pushes the growing length in between my legs, I moan again in his mouth. “I missed you so much” He says and I melt with his words. He had missed me. I was not the only one to suffer the year apart, to suffer with our breakup, when after a year together we no longer woke up together on the same bed. He halts again and for a second, I fear he had realized the mistake we were making. My heart stops in fear. “If we keep going, we might…or certainly…” _Oh_ , it hits my mind. He was asking if…I laughed. “What?” he asks and I notice a tremor of panic on his throat.

  
“Only you can ask a horny woman pressing her cunt beneath you if she wants to have sex with you” He blushes, and I buck my hips to his swelling cock still trapped under his pants, he moans. “In case it was not clear. Yes, I do.”

  
He kisses my neck and I whimpered to the warmth of his lips against my skin, “You are an evil, _malicious_ woman. Did you know that?” He slowly pulled my shirt and bra above my head, releasing my breasts. For a second he remains there, just observing, and then a hand touches my breast and his face reaches for my chest. I shudder under his breath, moaning when he trailed a path of tiny kisses on his way to one of my nipples.

  
And then, _then_ he sucked it, and I arched my back to the pleasure.

  
Too long, too long indeed, my neck arched and my hands grab his hair again. He did not stop, drawing circles with his tongue, his wet, warm tongue. His other hand played with the other, the palm cupping and the pads of his fingers pinching the sensitive tip. I felt the shiver run and hit in between my legs. It did not stop, my legs tensed, I moaned, perhaps too loud, “Alistair” I say, my breath erratic and my cheeks burning. “Al– Ali” I mutter, and then he rocked his pants against my core.

  
“It’s okay, love” He _knew_ , the sodding bastard _knew_ I was coming. “Come” he reassured, licking the nub had previously erected with his fingers. I need him, I need him inside, to feel his cock at the entrance and feel it slide slowly into my core. “It is still a young night”, I lifted my eyes to the clock on the wall, 9:30, _Maker_ – I manage to think–, _young night indeed._

  
“Alistair” I say, my nails digging on the skin beneath his shirt, only to move my hands above and pull them above his head. It was going to be fun to remember this moment, to remember him struggling to take off his shirt. I throw his still damped top away “Too much clothes,” I say, slightly lifting and parting my legs. I touch, touch his warm chest and feel his skin as I go down, just to feel the cold metal lock of his belt. “Please…” I beg, feeling the lock pop as it opens.

  
“No” he says, kissing my forehead, I blink in confusion. “Not yet”.

  
He kisses the middle of my chest and goes down. I can feel the path of dry, tender kisses on my skin. He does not bite or suck; he just smoothly ventures down and stops at the strings of my shorts. I cover my face with my hands after he sat up and pulled me to the end of the bed. I no longer see, but feel my shorts been pulled down and my underclothes with it.

A year ago, he would’ve taken his time, take my shirt off, unhook my bra, then my shorts and after teasing, my undergarments. But the rush and hunger in his movements, erratic and clumsy, suggested that our needs could skip such…rituals.

  
For few seconds he holds, and then I moan when one rough finger touches my core as one hand moves one of my knees to the side, silently, my other mimicking the gesture for his comfort. It goes up and down, teasing but not entering, and then I feel his breath. I gasp. “You’re so wet, Kallie” he whispers, I feel the tip of his cold nose on my clit as he inhales deep, making me blush even more. And the finger is gone, to reward me with the warmth of his tongue instead, up and down my folds, a finger drawing small circles on my clit. I moan and my hands go again for his hair, pulling his head further inside, he groans.

  
It comes again, I can feel my legs and folds tensing one more time, and I buck my hips to the feeling of his tongue. It is when I’m coming that I feel two fingers easily slide inside me, and my inner walls tense around them, he slowly thrusts, relentless. I moan again and his name escapes from my lips. 

  
“ _Yes!_ ” I mutter, but I’m not sure he even hears me. “Yes” I say even lower. But it’s like he knows, and I feel his fingers curling inside. I draw my head back and my fingers grasp the bedclothes as my orgasm rips through me. I feel his thrusts slowing down and I pant loudly. He stops and I whimper when he slides out of me. “Maker…” I say, lacking for words as I manage to gain control of my breathings. I open my eyes to see his belt gone to the floor and the button of his pants undone. I spot the tip of his cock through the edges of his underclothes. Kneeling on the bed, I manage to stand straight with my legs trembling from my climax. I reach for his waist, and I feel his hand on my neck when I’m on his reach. I look of up for him, and he bends to kiss me, the salty taste of myself on his lips and tongue. I kiss his stomach and head down, licking the tip already shining with a small drop of his pre-cum. I feel him shudder, he draws his head back.

  
“Kallie…” he mumbles, and is enough to have me pulling his pants down and he follows by kicking his shoes off. I kiss the tip again, and then I open my mouth to swirl my tongue around the tip and put my hands on his waist. I listen him moan. I try not to smile when I stop to lick his shaft. He grabs a handful of my hair, brushing with his fingers to make a ponytail, I feel the tips of my hair tickling my back, “This is new…” he says, and I look up to find him studying his view. I know what he means, for the last time we ever did something like this my hair was not long enough to grab, “I like it” He concludes, nodding with satisfaction and I swallow his length without warning, his grip strengthens and a gasp escapes his lips. “You’ll be the death of me, woman” he says and I push back to suck hard on the tip, his head twitches inside my mouth. He moans.

  
He helps me find my rhythm, pushing me harder by the hair, when his cock was deep in my throat I jerk, feeling tiny tears on the corner of my eyes, but I do not stop, “Kallie…” Alistair says, moving his hips to find himself deeper on me throat, “Kallie, I can’t…I won’t…” I feel him twitch, but I don’t stop, my nails burying on his hips. 

  
Heat comes deep between my legs and I skim my skin, heading further down to find my clit swollen and sensitive to my touch. He mumbles and pulls harder of my hair. I stop my ministrations to look at him; a thin thread still connected the tip of my tongue to the head of his cock. He lets go, and bends to give me a kiss, his arm surrounds my waist and drives me back to the bed. “I love you” He says in a gasp, leaning his forehead to mine. I see his shoulders going up and down quickly, “I love you, I’m so sorry” I cup his cheek and close my eyes. The way I love this man is beyond me. He grabs my hand and kisses the palm. I push back into the bed and he follows me. I lean on my pillows and spread my legs to him. It is then when I see him align his manhood to my entrance and I moan in expectation. He closes his eyes and pushes himself slowly. My insides crushed him relentlessly, my hands squeeze the sheets and he pulls forward, his hands grasping the back of the bed. I look at his face, his eyes shut and biting his lower lip, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face, his shoulders, his smooth warm skin. 

  
At first he doesn’t go in completely, but thrusts slowly, I see him gulp and close his eyes tight, grasping well upon the feeling. He leans down and kisses me. I lift my torso to run my fingers through his hair, half-dry and soft on my touch. “I love you” he says again and the sound of slap of flesh fills the air, sliding completely inside. I pull his hair and my eyes snap shut, when I look at him, he’s smiling. _Payback_ , I read in his eyes and toss my head back and laugh.

  
Evil, evil shem indeed.

  
It does not take long for us to find our rhythm. I buck and lift my hips to meet his cock as he pumps in and out of my core. Every time faster, every time less and less steady, each one closer to our own, final climax. I lift my torso and wrap my arms around his neck and he lifts me and pulls back, cupping my buttocks for support and guiding my hips with strength. The new angle makes me scream as white hot pleasure reaches my stomach, I can feel his skin beneath my nails as I cling on to him, my head buried deep in his chest. My folds clench even more and he mutters a _fuck_ in my ear. We will not last long after this. 

  
One…

  
Two…

  
I feel his shaft tremble as he pours his seed inside me. I fall back into the bed, and his thrusts slowly stop, both trying to catch our breaths. He lies on top of me using both of his arms as prop; otherwise he would have dropped dead over me. He’s panting, and I smile, a smirk manages to slip over his parted lips. A drop of his sweat hits my face and he kisses my forehead before tossing himself and leaning on my side.

  
I look at him, his sandy blond hair, his broad shoulders and strong arms, his thin and perfectly groomed beard, his gorgeous eyes. Those perfectly curled eyelashes. 

  
…

  
Am so screwed, am I?

  
I look to the clock…it is passed midnight…I guess Leliana’s juicy gossip can wait till tomorrow, right?   
He touches my cheek, runs his fingers through my hair, “I’ve been watching it grow through the past year” he says, “I’ve seen those long, complicated braids that somehow Tradus gets his apprentice to do, in a ponytail, I think you started to style your hair as soon as it had grown long enough, but always wondered…” He brushes a lock behind my ear, “How would it look like this. You’re so beautiful, Kallie”

  
I feel my cheeks burn again and I want to say something funny, but I don’t. Instead, I push myself close to him, feeling tiny in his chest, and close my eyes, “I love you too” I say, hoping he wouldn’t hear me. His chin is resting on the top of my head and I feel a leg sneak in between my own. I fall asleep feeling how he tucks us both under a sheet.

  
Evil, wicked shem, has wrapped me up on his kingly little finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was supoosed to be a single chapter when I first found it. But a second drabble has been hovering my head with things that I didn't include here.  
> So, here it is.  
> I Hope you liked it, Acathla <3


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